


Lip Gloss

by snazzelle



Series: See Him When He's All Made Up [2]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl kind of likes pretty things, First Time, Genderqueer Character, M/M, Prequel to Pretty, Rick kind of likes Daryl in pretty things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:55:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1466884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snazzelle/pseuds/snazzelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick notices something off about Daryl and finds himself a little more interested about this quirk than he should be. Prequel to Pretty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lip Gloss

**Author's Note:**

> More genderqueer Daryl like promised. Read from Rick's POV.

Rick barely notices it at first, but he had been staring at Daryl a little longer than usual. Prison life had become slow now that their lives wasn't so much in danger with all these fences around. It gave him all the time to finally really settle down and to actually learn about his people, and not who they were as survivors, but how they must have been before the whole apocalypse.

Daryl has just become his fixation. Rick wouldn't of noticed, really, with how often the redneck keeps his head down and how he always pulls his lips together until the pink of them nearly disappears into his mouth. But he sees it now as they stand together, watching over the others stabbing walkers in the head through the fences. Daryl's lips shine- like, with lip gloss.

It was a faint pink, surely the same color as they are naturally, and it wasn't like his lips actually _shine_ , shine and look plastic. They just look... lush. Well taken care of, he might even say. It was easier to spot when the rest of Daryl was covered in dirt, the smudge of dust and mud the only other decoration of color on his face. Daryl notices him staring and his eyes narrow questioningly, lips folding over his teeth again as he chews on a thumbnail.

“What.”

“Your mouth.” 

He doesn't kid himself about how Daryl's cheeks seem to color at the observation. Daryl drops his hand from his mouth, and he licks over his lips like he's trying to get rid of the evidence, but it doesn't really work. 

“What of it?” Daryl asks this time.

Rick couldn't really hold it back now. He tilts his head like it would soften the blow, “You wearin' lipgloss, or somethin'?”

“No. What th'hell?”

Daryl actually bristles a bit. Rick wants to apologize because maybe he _is_ imagining it. Daryl's lips aren't very full, and it isn't like that quick, pink tongue darting over his lips isn't a normal occurrence. But Daryl isn't looking at him anymore, and Daryl is biting at his lips like he's trying to eat them off. They're going to be red and puffy when he's done, Rick knows it, but he's grown accustomed to tearing his eyes away.

He grabs the jug of water he shares with Daryl and brings it to his own lips for a drink. That's when he notices something along the rim. The faintest of glimmer decorates the side and he brings it close to his nose and sniffs. Was that watermelon? He eyes Daryl and sets it down. “Y'are.” He doesn't say more. He's not accusing Daryl of anything other than simply wearing the lipgloss. 

Daryl flushes even more and he rubs the back of his hand against his mouth like he's ashamed. His lips look really dry now, irritated, and tender. Rick doesn't mean to upset him, so he says carefully, “It looked nice on you, Daryl. Sorry if I upset you.” He gives the other man a small smile. Daryl just shifts in his stance against the fence and crosses his arms. He doesn't look like he believes Rick, so Rick continues, “Maybe you should try a darker color next time. It'll be more noticeable.”

“You makin' fun of me, Grimes?” Daryl growls, his eyes narrowed now in renewed animosity. He hasn't directed that gaze at him since he found out Rick left his brother on that roof, so it made Rick freeze and tense. He shakes his head and waves a hand out in front of him appeasingly, so Daryl relaxes. He trusts Rick and he knows sometimes Rick isn't so good with words either. 

“I'm sayin' its a pretty color on you,” Rick says honestly. Daryl stares at him for a moment and finally nods. He doesn't say anything more, so Rick curiously asks something else, “So is it just the gloss?” 

Daryl doesn't comment.

-

Rick never asks again and Daryl acts as if the conversation never happened. On occasion Rick would find Daryl's lips painted with a thin layer of gloss. Its almost become natural for Rick, and only when he's truly studying Daryl does he really notice it. He just wonders when Daryl finds the time to reapply and if there is an occasion for why he does wear it.

Because for all the years he knew Lori, she didn't put on a tube of gloss or rouge unless they were going out for the night, or to go visit an old friend. He tries not to waste time thinking about her now (her death is still a bit fresh), but she filters through every once in a while. Its easier to go on when she's out of his mind.

Daryl's been a good distraction like that. 

He sighs heavily and puts his dirty hands on his hips, nodding towards Daryl to continue on the garden. The winter months were coming, and the chances of growing anything good was slim. It was all the matter of how well the kept the dirt right now, but he doubts anything he grows would be enough to sustain them in the winter. Daryl is a good hunter, but its less likely that game would be running through the woods, and if Rick could have his way, wouldn't have the Dixon out alone in the cold in the first place. 

While Daryl continues to loosen the dirt, Rick rolls his shoulders and watch. “Think we need 'nother trip into town.”

“Why's.. ugh.. that.” Daryl shoves the tool into the dirt, resting his arm over the handle as he catches his breath too. He squints up at Rick and Rick scans his face, settling back down to his lips that just carried that hint of color that wasn't all that natural on Daryl, but still suit him just fine. Daryl snaps his fingers in front of his face and that gets him talking.

“Supply run, as usual. Gotta get us ready for the winter- could use some thicker clothes, more canned goods...” 

Daryl sniffs, little nose scrunching for a second and narrow blue eyes becoming slit like in thought. He doesn't nod, but he doesn't shake his head, and stands up straighter to continue digging.

“Get the kid to do it.” 

“No. Need you to do it. I'm goin' with you on this one.” 

Daryl stops again and sighs as his whole body relaxes. He nods and says, “Then when?” 

Rick looks up at the sky. He and Daryl had started fixing up the garden early, and by the looks of it, it shouldn't even be midday. If they leave now, they'll be able to come back before the sun had set over the horizon. “Now. Clean up a bit.” Daryl snorts and throws the shovel off to the side. He bends down to grab his water bottle and knife and Rick for the first time sees the tease of black, shiny polyester decorating the exposed stretch of skin as his shirt rides up his back and leave those low sitting pants. He pretends not to have noticed when Daryl straightens and leaves with a mumbled goodbye, desperately trying to redirect his thoughts.

-

Rick drives them both into town, communication kept to the minimum but at least was a comfortable silence between the two. He could see from the corner of his eye as Daryl fiddled with anything he could get his hands on along the trip right above his lap. Rick thinks of what he's hiding underneath.

But he really tries not to because its none of his business, despite how much his mind wants to wander. The respect he has for this man is boundless. Daryl has done so much and Rick couldn't, wouldn't, risk humiliating a man by dragging out his secrets. At the moment, Rick kind of wants to bang his head on the steering wheel for pushing as much as he's done already, but what's done is done.

“So, lets do the light stuff first. Clothes?”

He gets a grunt and a nod, and the Dixon doesn't even spare him a glance. He stops fiddling with the piece of wrapper in his hands and place them on his knees where his fingers play with the frayed denim. Rick sighs. 

“Somethin' bothering you, Daryl?” 

“Nothin'.”

“Could of fooled me.”

And he knows he's pushing it again. Daryl looks at him finally and he tilts his head as he eyes Rick, his lips pursed thoughtfully. Daryl smooths his hands up his thighs then back down to his knees and Rick had to tear his eyes away to stare at the road. “S'just thinkin'. How're we gonna split the work?” 

Rick shrugged. “Sections.” It is as simple as that.

Immediately when they walked into the store, Rick goes straight for the male section, specifically, for young boys. A thick jacket for Carl was first on the list, hopefully something big enough for the boy to wear for a couple of winters to come. Style isn't an issue, only that it would keep Carl dry and warm. 

“Daryl, why don't you...” he looks over his shoulder, expecting the other man to be behind him like a shadow. Instead, Daryl was creeping ever so slowly towards the lady's section. Rick could see him sneaking glances at the section from where the Dixon now stood, just on the edge where a few, obnoxiously bright colored shirts hung. Despite how the other seemed to just throw on anything he could find, he strongly doubted even he would wear something like that. 

Rick shakes his head and releases a quiet, fond snort. He turns his back on Daryl, just so that man could have his privacy. If he ever looks over and sees Daryl picking through lady's things, he doesn't ask the Dixon why he's there. But he does throw over, “Find the girls somethin' to layer, would you? Don't mind color, style... just somethin' warm.”

When Daryl startles for a second, Rick doesn't even react. He just gives the other a gentle smile and a nod to say he knows Daryl had heard him. He hears mumbling, something close to, “Sure, whatever”. 

Rick catches Daryl looking through camisoles, out of everything. He tries to seem oblivious as he watches Daryl feel the fabric between his fingers and stretch it out between his hands. Even in the dark of the store, Rick could see the light lavender of the shirt. Then he sees Daryl look at the tag, and since money is never an issue now, Rick was assuming the younger man was looking at the size. That's when Rick drops a hanger as he fumbles to pull a jacket free that would probably fit Carl too big, and Daryl's head whips up. 

“N- Daryl-”

Daryl sets it down, and scoots the few hangers over to the 'small' section that would probably fit the girls back at camp a lot better. “Jus' lookin' for things fer the women.” His fingers pluck at the thin, thin straps one by one and with such practiced ease Rick starts to wonder if Daryl has done this before for himself (had to be quick, if he wanted to slip these things in under his brother's nose), and then walks away to look for much warmer layers. 

When he does leave, Rick stuffs the jacket in his backpack, snags handful of sweaters, and moseys on over, stuffing bigger sizes of pale camisoles and maybe even a skirt-thing (wasn't so sure) into his own knapsack. He does this throughout the store, silently following Daryl after that. If Daryl finds lady things in his size tucked in with the rest of his stuff, he never says.


End file.
